


A Game of Corpses

by clutzycricket



Series: Pathways and Maybes [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 50 AU meme, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Forensics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If poison is a woman's weapon, who better than a woman to detect it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Corpses

"Sweet sister temperance,” Aegon said muzzily, blinking up at her in a haze of headache and regret, “don’t look at me like that.”

"Are you capable of actually registering my expression?" She sounded curious at that, that mad scientist streak that led her in unladylike directions.

"No, I just know you too well," he pointed out.  
"Seven people are dead, Egg, and they all have connections to the Landing," she admonished, and he noticed that his sister was wearing her coat.

"Off to tend to your dead?" he asked.

"One day," she said, and the worry in her tone was enough to make him almost regret all his actions, so like Mother’s had been before he’d swanned off to be a pilot, "I am afraid I’ll see you in the morgue."

"I’ll be the best looking corpse there," he promised airily, and she sighed as she went off.

He waved at his sister.

~

"It’s not wood alcohol," Will confirmed, looking at the results of Rhaenys’ test. They were studying the body of Robert Baratheon, one of the victims from the last round of speakeasy deaths.

Well, Will was performing the autopsy, because the boss was trying to prove that the government and Prohibition were killing people, and Ned Stark had called for an autopsy, poor brave idiot. Rhaenys was studying the results of her poisoning tests, since Will had noticed some… abnormalities that the hundreds of tests and studies on alcohol deaths didn't usually show.

"Not just wood alcohol," she agreed, biting her lip nervously. "I think it might be aconite in there, based on the symptoms described by his drinking partners Humph arrested, but I need to finish that test.”

"Aconite?" Will tapped his cane, studying the table full of carefully prepared people slurry, test tubes, and other scientific discussions. "Mallanneh’s test is not all that reliable."

"Mmm, I have another plan," Rhaenys smiled, taking a scraping and carefully adding a few drops of solution, watching as it turned green. "I was thinking we speak to Uncle."

Will stared at her for a moment. He knew she was bold- she’d passed all of the tests that Gettler and Norris insisted on their toxicologists knowing, and most of their colleagues didn’t dare comment on her sex or race because they were fairly certain she could fool Gettler with her knowledge of poisons.

Also her Uncle the gangster.

"Please don’t," came a familiar voice from the doorway, and Will smiled at Humfrey, who waved carelessly. "You’re sure its aconite?"

"As sure as I can be without a decent budget and unlimited time to come up with a proper test," she said. "I can prove that an aconite byproduct is there, but the Lannisters have good lawyers."

"Tywin Lannister is in support of Prohibition," Humphrey said mildly, though his expression and the set of his shoulders meant that he knew what she meant. "And bankrolls half the city- Tweed didn’t have his control over the city. He wouldn’t embarrass himself by having his son in law being found dead with a dancer in a speakeasy after some bad jake."

"Cersei would," Rhaenys pointed out, looking at the livid green tint. "And she’d murder seven people to be rid of him. He whored, he drank, and he probably hit her. You think the Lannister pride would help her keep smiling forever?"

Humfrey nodded, looking at the worn, stained tables and battered air of the room. Norris had to fund the damn lab by himself at times, he knew, and the Mayor loathed Norris. If Tywin Lannister took offense at his daughter being accused of murder…

"Does Norris know about this?" he asked.

"I’ll tell him myself," she grinned, a dragon’s smile, and he remembered that she got the job with _her_ daddy's connections. "Norris will love getting to have a battle with Lannister."

~

Humfrey was expecting Cersei Lannister-Baratheon to be more of a challenge, but her nervous cousin Lancel suffered a crisis of conscious, and a very interesting file was mailed to Humphrey, who didn’t actually expect Doran Martell to sign it, but the style of information, its eerie depth… the old rumors of old dark magic and voodoo that followed the family, not helped when his sister married one of the dangerous, mad Targaryens, they never did fade. (There was also the rumors about the death of Elia, and Humfrey wondered- quietly, only to Davos, about the Martells saving every scrap of information for when one of the Lannisters finally made a misstep. For all that Rhaenys was a good Catholic girl, and Will was sweet on her... her family was clannish in its own way.)

He showed her enough of the file that the proud blonde had crumbled, raging and trying to scratch his eyes out.

Then some information that hadn’t made it into the file instead went to the Post, and Tywin Lannister had a stroke.

Cersei Lannister would dance in the chair, he knew, and from some of her ranting, he had to wonder if Robert Baratheon had deserved what he’d gotten.

But the other six victims hadn’t done anything except try to have some fun, and she needed to be punished for that.

Sometimes he hated his job.

He looked at the file for his next case, about a medium called the Red Priestess suspected of some arsons…

**Author's Note:**

> The test for aconite I mention is found in this paper from 1921, a few years before this fic is set in 1926. Gettler and Norris were real people, and the Mayor of New York- the successive mayors of NYC during Norris’ tenure- were horrible with regards to budgeting the lab and one was especially spiteful about Norris getting the job. Further interest can be sent to The Poisoner's Handbook by Deborah Blum, because the history is actually pretty fascinating. (And horrifying.)
> 
> Also, yes, don’t drink denatured alcohol. Seriously.


End file.
